LONGVIEW, TEXAS — Fjord (who now has binoculars) and Courtney wanted to squeeze in some birding while I was on campus, so we had agreed to meet at 7 a.m. Unfortunately for the plan, I had to keep my alarm in a place I could reach without getting out of bed. And so, I woke suddenly, a few moments after 7. This little problem didn’t seem to do much harm, but I couldn’t help remembering that it had happened before. With only about an hour to spend, the north end of campus was as far as we could go. As we headed that direction, a Mourning Dove’s feathers whistled sharply.

A musical trill from the pines by the Assembly Building sounded like a Pine Warbler to me. The last few notes were lower than the first, and I told Fjord and Courtney I’d never heard a Chipping Sparrow sing like that. But, I have heard rather musical-sounding Chipping Sparrows before and am always hesitant to attempt a definite identification. The bird kept moving by the sound of things, and we never even got a glimpse.

Cardinals sang, and robins. The cardinal-song almost made me forget it was January, though the birds seemed to sing with just a fraction of the enthusiasm that will pour from them in the months ahead.

Common Grackles flew north in noisy bands, and I struggled to explain how I knew they were Common Grackles instead of something else entirely. I realized that most of my descriptions were relative, appealing to knowledge that my younger friends do not yet have. Their tails are long. Well, longer than what? Their calls are unique. How? They just are. They are Common Grackles.

I heard a distant call and asked for an identification. “Blue Jay?” said Fjord. And I was happy.

A sapsucker and a creeper scooted along the branches of adjacent trees. A bit of patience and maneuvering rewarded us with good looks at both, though the creeper stayed up higher than they sometimes do. A little farther on, a red-belly rested at the tip of a tall tree, but the light of the rising sun illuminated the creature’s zebra-striped back and gleaming red crown. Courtney correctly identified a small flock of Chipping Sparrows, but a Blue-headed Vireo moved too quickly for either her or Fjord to appreciate.

Henbit had started to bloom, or perhaps it never stops. We rounded the southern end of the pond, passing a Red-winged Blackbird. His brilliant shoulders were not visible, so I tried to point out his shape and the unique music of his song. I’d heard talk of a Great Blue Heron that had been hanging out in the pond of late, but it wasn’t there just then. Soft calls and a musical trill came from the oaks on the west bank.

As we got closer, we could see several small birds flitting quickly among the branches, and I caught the bright flash of a male Pine Warbler. Before long, my companions saw them too, and then several of the birds flew down into the grass to feed, providing us even better looks. Meanwhile, a flicker perched atop a tall wooden post.

We split up as we passed the dining hall, Fjord going in to breakfast. Just after we’d parted, I saw a few juncos. And of course, Cedar Waxwings swarmed in the Bradford pears on the berm. I called out to Courtney, who turned. “I’ve never seen Cedar Waxwings!” She hurried back to look, and I went on my way.

It was such a simple morning, but I kept hoping it would open Fjord’s and Courtney’s eyes. The birds are there, singing, feeding, shining in the sun, whether someone like me is around or not. I hope they will go and find them themselves.

The life birds called for celebration, Courtney decided, and she generously offered me her Brewer’s Blackbirds (from a recent CBC), so I could participate as well. We went to IHOP late at night, and we even invited a few non-birders too.

EAST TEXAS — I think the last bird I saw in Texas was a starling.

The graduation ceremony was kind of a blur. A Red-tailed Hawk flew among the huge old pine trees while the speaker was talking, and mockingbirds and jays harassed it. It eventually settled on a horizontal limb near the top of a pine, silhouetted big and powerful against the sky.

At our farewell party, I heard a flock of Cedar Waxwings in the distance.

My sister and I didn’t leave until 6 p.m. I drove until somewhere north of Daingerfield and then gave her the wheel. I was deeply sad, and I was physically exhausted. As my eyes grew heavy, I looked out at the vibrant green world speeding past. Doves balanced their bulk on wires. Swallows whirled over the road. Dark shapes perched in dead trees by the water. A blackish bird hopped up on a highway sign.

I didn’t wake up till Oklahoma.

LONGVIEW, TEXAS — All I was told was that Abu, Aduma, and I were to meet at Shroud’s apartment for a home-cooked meal. Bev was making us supper. In fact, it was all a conspiracy to surprise me with a visit from our good friend Baggins — a former LETU student now living in Maine. I was thrilled to see him (though bringing along a few puffins might have been thoughtful).

Everyone took great pleasure in regaling me with the details of the plot. Even the home-cooked meal was a lie; we were going out for Mexican. On our way out the door, I mentioned the House Finches. Shroud grabbed a dining room chair and told Baggins to climb up and look in the flower pot.

This, apparently, was too much for the young birds. They exploded out of the nest and flew all the way across the street into the yard of the neighboring apartment.

Baggins was shocked and embarrassed, and Shroud and I both felt a little guilty — Shroud for providing the chair and I for not urging greater caution. The little birds were strong fliers, however, and their behavior indicated that their sudden fledging wasn’t excessively premature. They were clumsy, but they seemed to have the strength to fly up into the trees, and I concluded that they would probably be fine.

It was a strange end to a strange tale. Oh, and the Mexican dinner was delicious.

EAST TEXAS — After a most unsatisfactory movie experience last night, I slept late and didn’t get going until almost 10. I had a long to-do list, but I happened to check the weather and see that the winds were from the northeast. The morning was cloudy and cool — not even 60. Warblers! I thought, and a few moments later, I was in the car.

I stopped first at Shroud and Bev’s apartment to check on the House Finch nestlings. They have grown considerably, their feathers are in, and their eyes are open. I don’t expect they’ll be in the nest much longer.

Dragonflies swarmed on the iron bridge road.

Cardinals, Indigo Buntings, White-eyed Vireos, Carolina Wrens, Yellow-breasted Chats and a Prothonotary Warbler sang. I caught a brief glimpse of a Yellow-throated Warbler. They are not singing anymore, I noticed; I suppose they’re busy with family responsibilities now. I was pleased to see and hear the colorful summer residents, but I was disappointed not to encounter any migrants pushing through (with the exception of two yellow-rumps).

That changed once I crossed the bridge. First, I saw two Orchard Orioles. One was a first-year male, and the other was a female. I wondered if they could be a pair. Apparently, some first-year males will attempt to breed.

As the orioles fled, I saw more movement in the low trees. Some of the birds were Indigo Buntings, and I also got quick glimpses of a bright, eye-ringed Nashville Warbler and a couple of Tennessee Warblers. Then a family of chickadees moved through. The fledglings had practically no tails, so they looked like little fuzzballs. They begged and fluttered and flew clumsily from twig to twig. The next tree held a large flock of Cedar Waxwings, and the sky was full of swallows, martins, and the occasional Black Vulture.

An Anhinga soared overhead.

Farther down, I encountered another flock of Nashville and Tennessee Warblers. A parula sang half-heartedly, and I finally saw him — white eye crescents, dark breast band, green back. A plain-faced vireo moved silently with the warblers. It was very plain — probably a Warbling Vireo, but it would have been nice to hear it sing.

A Yellow-billed Cuckoo called hollowly from the taller trees. Two Baltimore Orioles flew by. A pair of pewees darted between twigs above the path, calling occasionally, and a hummingbird or two whizzed overhead.

I saw two small Buteos soaring high. The plumage had no distinguishing marks, but the birds were molting their primaries. Sibley confirmed my suspicion: They were immature broad-wings. This discovery helped considerably in understanding Saturday’s difficulties. Most of those birds lacked any distinguishing plumage features (no dark primaries, no banded tails), but many of them were molting their flight feathers. Sometimes I forget how much I still have to learn.

Campus responsibilities pulled me slowly back toward the car. Wood Duck pairs periodically exploded out of the water-filled ditches, squealing their annoyance. Catbirds cried from the low growth. Another flock of warblers caught my eye. Many were Tennessees, but a beautiful female black-and-white worked the limbs and trunks, nuthatchlike. After looking at Tennessee after Tennessee, I saw a small bird drop down onto branch. Without my binocs, it looked like a chickadee, but as I raised them, I realized it was a Blackpoll Warbler — a bright male with white cheeks, streaked sides, and neon legs. That’s a pretty good find here, and he was one sharp-looking bird.

Snowy Egrets in the lake and Pine Warblers in the pines slowed me down on the way back to the car, and I was nearly late for my 1:30 appointment.

LONGVIEW, TEXAS –

retreating after papers,
fire ants kept me moving till i settled on a heap of dirt

buntings bluebirds noisy nestlings
robins take me to ohio

i played with dirt
   first because i didn’t think
   then because i did
   then because soft, cool

two bikes
i started acting natural–
   i’m just sitting here on a dirt pile

he asked if i built them
and i felt like a myth resting on the mountains
   after piling up the world

no

calling first
   five nighthawks
   spread and high
why do i always think of qadar–

i’d better go–
because of the lights, not the dark

mockingbird wonders what’s right with the world